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Lucinda Williams has always been
adept at painting landscapes of the soul, illuminating
the spirit’s shadowy
nooks and shimmering crannies -- but she’s never
captured the sun breaking through the clouds as purely
as on her new Lost Highway release, Little Honey.
“I’m in a different phase of my life, so
there are more happy moments on this album,” the
singer-songwriter says of her ninth studio set. “ ‘Darkly
introspective,’ is one phrase people have used
to describe a lot of my songs. There are moody
songs, but I’m looking outside myself a little
bit more. These aren’t ‘boy meets girl, boy
leaves girl, girl gets bummed out’ songs -- there’s
a lot more than that going on.”
Williams wastes no time signaling that mood change, leading
into Little Honey's opener, “Real Love” with
a false start riff that's the six-string equivalent of
a friendly wink – then sidling into the tune's
hard-rocking vibe with a sensual slink that underscores
the passion of finding exactly what that title indicates.
The bluesy physicality of that tune is echoed in several
of Little Honey's tracks, from the charmingly
chugging “Honeybee” to the gorgeous melodies
of “If Wishes Were Horses”.
“I’m stepping out and writing about things
other than unrequited love. But because that’s
not part of my experience anymore,” she explains, “doesn’t
mean I’m going to stop being a songwriter. There
are plenty of other important things to write about
-- the state of the world, for one thing -- I don’t
buy into the myth that because you get to a certain level
of contentment, you have to throw in the towel.”
While Little Honey certainly
has plenty to move the hips, Williams doesn't neglect
her uncanny ability to do the same to the heart. The
sparse delta delivery she affords “Heaven Blues” -- a keening
consideration of what might await on the other side – hits
home thanks to its arresting blend of hope and vexation,
while the epic “Rarity” rides soft waves
of brass (instrumentation never before heard on one of
her discs).
“The one thing the songs have in common is directness,” she
says. “The beauty of country and blues is their
simplicity, it’s about getting things across in
a really direct way. I’ve spent a while stretching
out and going in different directions, which is my nature.
But I feel that I can always embrace that original simplicity
again -- that’s why I went back to record ‘Circles
and Xs,’ which I actually wrote back in 1985.”
Over the course of a recording career that's now in
its fourth decade, the Louisiana-born singer has navigated
terrain as varied as the dust-bowl starkness of her 1978
debut Ramblin’ (recorded on the fly with
a mere 250 dollar budget behind her) and the stately
elegance of last year's West (which Vanity
Fair called “the record of a lifetime”).
Between those signposts, Lucinda Williams established
a reputation as one of rock's most uncompromising and
consistently fascinating writers and performers, earning
kudos from artists as diverse as Mary-Chapin Carpenter
(who helped win Williams a Grammy with her recording
of “Passionate Kisses”) and Elvis Costello
(who joins her for a duet on the Little Honey mini-drama “Jailhouse
Tears”).
Williams learned the importance
of professional integrity around the same time most
kids are learning their ABCs, thanks in a large part
to her award-winning poet father Miller Williams --
who invested her with a “culturally
rich, but economically poor” upbringing where artistic
expression was of primary importance. Later, she’d
hone her vision playing hardscrabble clubs around her
adopted home state of Texas, absorbing the influence
of sources as varied as Bob Dylan and Lightnin’ Hopkins.
“I sometimes say I just started out singing folk
songs acoustically by default,” she recalls. “Even
when I was playing open mic nights by myself, I’d
be sitting up on stage with my Martin guitar doing ‘Angel’ by
Jimi Hendrix or ‘Politician’ by Cream alongside
Robert Johnson and Memphis Minnie songs. It never occurred
to me to pick just one style.”
She’s never settled for any sort of pigeonholing,
entering the ‘90s with the slow-burning Sweet
Old World -- a disc that, as much as any release,
helped place the Americana movement at the forefront
of listeners’ minds -- and cementing her own spot
in the cultural lexicon with 1998’s rough-hewn
masterpiece Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.
The latter disc earned Williams her first Grammy
as a performer, but rather than try to capture the same
lightning in a bottle a second time, she stretched her
boundaries on 2001’s Essence, an album rife
with both cerebral interludes and soul-stirring stomps.
In recent times, Williams has broadened her palette even
further through frequent collaborations with kindred
spirits -- acts as varied as The North Mississippi All-Stars
and Flogging Molly -- who share her uncommon sense of
non-revivalist traditionalism.
Little Honey continues
that ongoing forward quest, mixing country, R & B and blues-rock elements with
adventurous aplomb. The disc gets an added octane boost
from the powerful chemistry between the musicians, primarily
drawn from Williams’ latest road band (now collectively
known as Buick 6) -- includes bassist David Sutton,
Eels veterans Butch Norton and Chet Lyster as well as
longtime collaborator Doug Pettibone.
Williams augments that core unit
with a passel of like-minded folks spanning a huge
chunk of the musical spectrum, from octogenarian singing
legend Charlie Louvin to power-pop vets Susannah Hoffs
and Matthew Sweet, the latter of whom helped arrange
the Spector-tinged “Little
Rock Star” -- applying studio skills that prompted
Williams to dub him “this generation’s Brian
Wilson.”
“I feel that this is the most eclectic record
I’ve ever done, and I’ve always been known
for being eclectic,” she says. “ For this
album, I was comfortable just letting the songs flow,
and not worried about being so serious and heavy and
having to top myself -- and I think that shows.”
She needn’t have worried
for a minute because, with Little Honey, Lucinda
Williams has indeed topped herself again. |